


Eternal

by jupiter_james



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 15:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: "Don't turn around," Dean pleads. Castiel holds still.And yet again,Winchester-Reloadhas inspired me to write smut based onthis incredibly intimate water color paintingshe did.This is also a fill for mySPN Kink Bingo card!





	Eternal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaltyWords (agent4hire22)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/gifts).



> There's no editing for this, as usual!

"Don't turn around. Just... don't turn around." The words are soft-hard, compelling.

Castiel doesn't turn around. Clenches his ruined shirt in his hands. Goosebumps rise on his naked skin, but he's not cold. He's never cold.

"You okay?" Dean asks gruffly.

Words inexplicably stuck in his throat for a moment, Castiel answers, "I'll heal quickly." And he does. He flexes his shoulders and the wounds begin to knit over, cauterized by the blue glow of his grace.

"You shoulda taken me with you."

Castiel's about to turn around when he remembers that Dean said not to for whatever reason. He stalls the movement. "I handled it."

"I wanted to go with you."

Slightly irritated, Castiel says, "I don't require a babysitter anymore." His muscles jump when a single finger runs down one of the scars from shoulder blade to the center spine.

"That's not why." It's said so softly.

There are moments, Castiel realizes, that are hinged on other moments. Moments that cut the wheel right or left, never down the old road ever again. This, he thinks, is one of those moments. And it might just be up to him to cut the wheel to one direction or another. Or stay the course. Which, he believes would be foolishly pointless. There's too much now. Too many actions and words that have unpaved the safe road over the years until this second when Dean puts up the "road closed" sign.

Both hands rove over Castiel's shoulder in some strange echo of a massage that instead of releasing the tension, increases it. The angel wants to push back into the warm touch, but he's afraid of what Dean will do if he moves. Afraid of what Dean _won't_ to. He's so exhausted of what they haven't been doing for years.

Breath is at his ear, Dean's body heat inevitable from the almost touch along his back, and Dean barely breathes, "please don't turn around." His hands swipe over Castiel's ribs, snake around to the front, over his stomach.

The tingling ecstasy makes Castiel feel like he's going to float away. He's dizzy with the too much/not enough pleasure. And he still doesn't move.

Dean's left hand pushes ever higher until it's cradling Castiel's jaw. The angel can barely feel it, and he absolutely does not move. He stares at the wall, praying it grounds him.

Soft lips press against the back of his neck, the most profound, firm touch so far. _Don't move don't move don't move._ Castiel's lips part. He sighs. _Please Dean don't move don't move._

The pressure disappears with Dean's mouth.

Unbidden, Castiel murmurs, "what are we?" He can feel the puff of air from Dean's silent laugh against the knob of his spine at the base of his neck.

"Not friends anymore. I screwed that up."

"I wish you would," Castiel breathes. There's sound to the laugh now. Not a lot, but enough that he knows he hasn't said anything wrong.

"Turn around, Cas."

He's not sure he can. But he does. Dean's left hand holds its position, sliding around his chin to rest against the back of his neck. Still feather light. Still trapping Castiel more surely than those angel-proofed handcuffs.

Eyes open, Dean watches himself brush his lips to Castiel's. The angel does the same. It's pointless to close his eyes. It would only make it less real, when Castiel thinks it's actually eternal. In fact, he didn't realize that kissing Dean would actually be so easy. He hasn't kissed many people in his long life, but enough to know that there's always something that they all want from it. Ways they direct it so that it becomes a give and take.

Dean's not like that. They move together, each a half step closer, barely increasing the pressure. Castiel's lips are still parted, and Dean sighs into it, pressure increased, but no tongues or teeth. Just a small open and close, Dean's lips closing around Castiel's bottom lip briefly as he ends it.

Castiel can't even see straight. The world spins with it.

Dean's right hand brushes down until it smooths over Castiel's ass, pressing them together and they're both hard through the thin cotton of their pajama pants. Castiel's never seen the need for underwear, and Dean's obviously not done laundry in a while. Each step backward towards the bed is an agonizing, nearly ticklish thrust of their dicks together.

Castiel sits down gently while Dean follows him down fluidly, straddling his thighs. He keeps rolling his hips, the small friction just barely enough. A breathy whimper slips past Castiel's lips. 

Dean taps their foreheads together as he moves. Eyes still open. Touch still profound. "Don't say anything," he pleads.

This is familiar ground. Castiel is used to strange rules that he decided long ago only make sense to humans, but that's good enough. He obeys because the heat coiling in his core demands that he does. And Dean had asked. Gingerly, he allows himself to move. Gentle rolls of his hips up. 

Dean breathes what would have been a moan if there was any sound to it. 

Castiel hears the clank of the old pipes in the walls. Dean's increasingly erratic breathing. His own blood rushing through his ears. He goes against Dean's command. "I love you," he whispers. 

Dean comes silent and trembling, hips grinding down in the most significant pressure yet. Until he crashes their lips together and bites down on Castiel's bottom lip in a more ferocious repeat of their first kiss. 

Castiel comes with a groan rumbling in his chest. 

He can hear the air conditioner hum on. The wooden floorboards settled and creaking. Both of their heavy breathing.

"Love you, too," Dean whispers.

And it's eternal.


End file.
